The Whipping Girl
by licensetowrite
Summary: A girl whipped and punished for the sins of another, a political prince, and a strange pact that just might cause a kingdom to fall or to rise anew. Will the beauty and the beast ignite a kingdom or destroy each other. PLEASE read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a tale that I consider an interesting mix between the Cinderella story and that of Beauty and The Beast, both favorite fairy tales of mine. I'm sort of new to the whole fan fiction thing, playing with a few themes that interest me. As the story unfolds, each character will become revealed and brought to light in an interesting way. This also includes a part of history that has always fascinated me--the whipping boy, boys used in the olden days to be whipped in place of the noble sons as they were considered too weak and etc. to be whipped. In this case, however, straying away from historical fact, I use a female version of that. Please read and let me know what you think. I am very interested in knowing what others think of this story. Thanks to all of those who do read.--licensetowrite

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Death emanated throughout the air—eating away at my soul like the plague—like that incessant disease that turns the skin black and rids the body of pestilence through boils. I felt like that—skin tight from tears, from the fear that life would always remain this way—that I would always fear. I felt more than heard when the door opened, when 'he' came to flog me once again for something else his daughter had done. I was the female version of the 'Whipping Boy." The child whipped and punished for the sins of another, but that's what servants were for, right? They were there to endure the pain of what the nobility would consider the weak. But the strong felt the pain too—endured it not because we weren't weak, but because we had to. My body tensed up as he stopped unexpectedly—drawn suddenly away by the insistence of a voice outside the hall. I looked up—allowing myself hope—a foolish notion really but there all the same. Yeah, hope. The door was left cracked open, and I shuddered—knowing that once his business was finished that he would come back for more. There were laws against this kind of treatment, right? There had to be. And then there was the shriek—that wonderful noise of rejoicing that came from his spoiled, rich daughter, and I knew my salvation had come in the guise of a prince—an unknown man who did not know me from a speck of dirt in a mound full of clay, but still my savior. He was Gabriella's betrothed—the second son of a powerful monarch now entrenched in war, which made him a soldier as well.

"He's here, papa! Damnation! Nothing has been prepared! Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" Gabby yelled before beginning a tirade about the incompetence of their staff. I swallowed hard. And here I was contemplating salvation. Yeah, right. Tirades never boded well for me. I was the indefinable end to all means because I was the half-breed orphan that had stumbled into the realm as a refugee. I was hated, despised, leered at, and spit upon. I was part of the same heritage as the coming prince and part of the same heritage as his enemy. And I had the gift of 'magic'—a curse really, but so did the man who approached for tales were told of his ferocity—of the way he fought other men as if he were more beast than he were man. Gabby ate up the violence for she thrived on the idea of danger—attracted to that ideal 'bad boy' image. I was just distressed. All I wanted was relief. Just relief. The arguing continued as I shivered there in the dark, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that her father wouldn't leave me be. He was angry at his only child—angered at her insolence, and he needed someone to take that rage out on. I was the outlet to that rage, had learned to soak in the anger like a sponge so that he could function normally in his every day life. But how did that leave me? Gabriella growled in frustration outside the door before throwing something. I knew this because I heard the impact of glass against stone as something shattered.

"Leave her be, papa! We have important guests to attend to. There will be royalty eating from our tables this night, by Gad!" She thundered as her father swore. I just stared at the wall, emotionless and tired. He wasn't done with me. I let that knowledge sink into my flesh as the door opened again, allowing a sliver of light to trail its way over to my broken figure. The dress I wore was dark blue and dusty, wrinkled and frayed. I was used to the attire, no longer embarrassed over its threadbare and patched appearance. It suited the girl who was whipped. That was my job—to endure pain. Lord Horton paused in the doorway as I sat there staring. I was so vacant. His footsteps sounded just inside the door before he paused again.

"Guards!" He yelled, and I jumped. I jumped because he had never had me punished by anyone other than himself, had never allowed anyone else to do the flogging he seemed to so enjoy and that scared me. What was wrong with him? I had learned how to accept his whippings with no sound or whimpering, just allowing the whip to run across my back, clenching my teeth against the sting while trying not to scream. I was not about to grovel, to beg for mercy. My mother's blood wouldn't allow me.

"Guards! Take her to the bailey. Have her flogged. Five strikes for each willful act that Gabriella has performed. Now!" He commanded as I stood up suddenly in shocked surprised, my bare feet instantly chilled once the hem of my dress uncovered them. No, he couldn't! He wouldn't allow me to be flogged publicly. It was too humiliating as it was—an experience that I had learned to live with as long as only he and his valet were there to witness it. I would rather die. No!

"Don't take your time about it!" Lord Horton yelled. "I have guests who have just arrived, and I will be sure to keep them occupied. Do as ordered." He finished as the guards rushed in, two coming to reside on each side of me before chaining my ankles and wrists. I wasn't a threat, but they assumed that the sensitive telepathic and healing powers I had inherited from my mother made me invincible—for wounds, even deep ones, healed at a remarkable rate on my person. But I was not invincible. I was the opposite. My telepathic sensitivities made me more vulnerable to the feelings that emanated from others, including those who punished me. I wouldn't be able to stand this flogging. I wouldn't. Two years in this horrid place as a prisoner all because of the current war between two kings. I was a half breed, a citizen of both the enemy country and the current one I resided in which automatically made me a traitor in both lands. Supposedly, the second born prince was fighting against the prejudice held against my kind, but so far had been wholly unsuccessful. Therefore, like most half-breeds, I was a slave. And my job was one of the worst assigned. I struggled little as the guards dragged me, my auburn hair like burnished flames as it fell over my face, hiding me from the view of all those we passed. I liked it better that way. It saved my pride.

And then I felt sunlight.

The warmth soaked into my skin, and I reveled in it and remembered why freedom was so important to me. I couldn't allow this degradation. My mother would have fought. She _did_ fight. I was not going to let them see me cower.

"A curse on all of you!" I cried, knowing good and well that they all thought that I was a witch, having seen me heal a young cripple girl one afternoon before my imprisonment. I was not a witch, but fear went a long way towards making people act foolish. And these men deserved to be afraid. The guard behind me shoved me onto the ground.

"Quiet witch!" He roared as I struggled against the chains. The sun gave me strength, and I spat on the man who had pushed me. He recoiled and yelled before sending the palm of his hand against the side of my face. I didn't even feel the pain or the burn for my anger was too great now. They could kill me for all I cared, but I was not going to be a prisoner anymore. I refused to be.

"A quick death to you all, you pigs!" I exclaimed as a low laugh suddenly caused the entire group of men that now surrounded me to grow quiet. And then 'he' entered—a man so intimidating that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had never seen him before and it was evident from the way that the other guards stared that they had not either. Who was he? He laughed again before clapping softly as if he were perusing a performance.

"Making sport, gentlemen?" He asked the men in a low, cautious tone as they all shifted uneasily. He was a big man. It was also evident that he was a man of authority as well by the way he strode across the area toward us. I growled. My anger was still boiling over.

"Another louse? A scour on you, sir!" I cried as he laughed again upon reaching me. Lord, he was big! Was he to torment me then? He lifted an inquiring brow.

"Are you always this insubordinate?" The man asked me softly as I looked over to the side of the bailey, avoiding the intense stare I felt boring now into the side of my head. Insubordinate? I suppose just by surviving that I was insubordinate. Most would have crumpled by now under the years of pain I had endured. Two long years.

"Yes." I finally answered with strong conviction, tired of the constant battle that I had been waging for years. A person can only handle so much torment, so much turmoil before they snapped. I didn't snap, I exploded. He didn't say anything at first in answer to my reply, and as I stood there, I realized rather belatedly that I had probably made the situation worse for myself by fighting the system. Still, I didn't even blink as I stared back at him stoically. His expression changed then, as if he had come to a decision based solely on an internal battle he had been waging since he walked into the courtyard—a final conclusive decision that made even his eyes glow before nodding. I took in a deep breath as he turned away from me and willed myself not to cry. I wouldn't stoop to that level right now. This was it. I knew it. My end had come, and I was prepared to meet it head on with a stoicism that would rival any warrior's. The man turned back toward me again.

"Release her!" The man shouted suddenly and I froze. What? Wait a minute! What? I released the breath that, up until now, I had not realized I had been holding. What was happening here? The guards at my back hesitated—staring at each other over my shoulder uncertainly before shifting nervously from foot to foot. Who could blame them? No one knew this man. No one knew what authority he had. He seemed to be the devil incarnate in his black pants, slightly open white shirt, and small golden hoop placed strategically in his ear. He was not the norm, dressed differently in a style most notable to the pirate. He was even now growing irritated as if he wasn't used to having his authority opposed, although the only sign of his agitation was the subtle darkening of his eyes and face. It even made _me_ shiver, and I was almost immune to violence at this point. He looked around at the men, letting his gaze pause momentarily on each face before lifting his head.

"I said release her!" He yelled again, his voice echoing throughout the bailey while jerking a medallion tucked securely into the folds of his shirt out into the open light of the courtyard, allowing the sun to glint off of the metal ominously. It was the king's crest. The motion was followed by a collective gasp as people went down onto their knees. The guards immediately shoved me away before fumbling quickly for the keys that unlocked the chains around my ankles and wrists. I, myself, was too stunned to notice their mumbled apologies, their deep bows, and worried glances. The only thing I could do was gape as realization hit me like an arrow slicing through my heart. Gabriella's betrothed. It was the prince—the dark prince. The Beast. And yet, he was releasing me. Fear coursed through my veins as I wondered, rather curiously, why. What were his plans for me? I was not, I repeat, not going to leave my imprisonment here for another imprisonment elsewhere. I just wasn't.

"I won't do it." I spoke out suddenly, regretting the impulse instantly as every head in the room turned and silence infiltrated the once chaotic fumbles. The prince looked over at me curiously, a slightly amused expression flitting across his features.

"Do what, my lady?" He asked softly, now that the need to yell had been eliminated. I was too flabbergasted by the fact that he had addressed me as 'my lady' to even speak for a moment. That salutation had never been an option for me and it caused me to freeze in astonishment as I rolled the sound of it around and around in my head. He had to be toying with me! I sighed deeply, gathering my resolve and my courage around me like a shield before staring him straight in the eyes.

"I won't trade slavery for slavery." I announced to the horrified gasps of those present. I could hear the muffled whispers of 'how dare she's' and 'flog her now's' as the prince advanced. He merely smiled softly as a different sort of gleam entered those expressive eyes. I recognized it immediately. It was admiration. And where his addressing me as a lady had surprised me, the admiration plain flummoxed me. He advanced even closer then, and yet I didn't cower. I wouldn't. His size intimidated me even more as he drew nearer for he towered over my diminutive five foot two frame at a good six foot something level. He was enough to be classified as a giant in my book. And he _was_ big—his body honed by the battles he had been involved in. It was downright frightening and arousing all at the same time. It made one wonder what scars he had hidden on his person. But, I wouldn't cower. I refused to blink. He stopped only about a foot away.

"A slave making demands?" He asked me curiously as I looked up into his face confidently. My mind and my heart were wounded and scarred. Death did not scare me, and I let that show in my expression.

"No, merely a citizen asking for the freedom she deserves." I replied as the entire bailey filled with riotous yells of 'half-breed' and 'traitor.' I wouldn't blink. It wasn't worth the fear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you to all who reviewed. I greatly appreciate the feedback and am very glad that you are interested in the story. I will try to update as often as possible. Lots of well wishes to you all and I hope that you keep reading and letting me know what you think.--licensetowrite**

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**_The Prince..._**

She spoke truth, the tiny half-breed slave who stared at him with a conviction borne of years of neglect and pain. She had to be starved for human emotion, for company, for justice. He watched as she watched him, eyeing him in a manner that he had often seen in smaller animals when they were wary of a predator. He smiled slowly, admiration flooding his limbs as he watched the people around the courtyard leer at her, watched as she endured the verbal beating with a rigid spine and high head. She wasn't about to allow anyone to infuse her with self-doubt. The hatred she was subjected to caused him to burn with fury. He was, after all the Prince of Ridgeland, and he was also an adamant believer in equal rights among the breeds. And yet he couldn't help but play with the fiery red-head, watching as her green eyes glowed with defiance. She fascinated him suddenly.

"You don't believe freedom should be earned then?" He asked her with a shrug as he circled her and the guards. He knew he was intimidating, knew he had developed a reputation he both deserved and didn't. That was the thing about myths. They grew out of seeds into trees with roots that were impossible to cut down. The guards stumbled as he smiled with feral condemnation at them, moving away as quickly as they could once the last chain fell to the ground with a 'clink.' The young woman seemed unsure of how to proceed—gazing first at her ankles and then at her wrists before rubbing them unconsciously. She frowned.

"Earned?" She spat out sourly, almost cautiously as she seemed to realize she was speaking to royalty. And yet, she never backed down.

"Freedom should never have to be earned, only in a case where it has first been abused." She finally answered solemnly, her green eyes boring into his unblinkingly with a resolve that caused him to raise one of his brows slowly. She impressed him, this little imprisoned wildcat, and he suddenly found himself wondering what she was truly like when her claws were unsheathed. He had heard stories pertaining to the fact that Lord Horton harbored a female slave he beat for his daughter's willfulness—had heard the tales pertaining to her capture, of how she had fought desperately against the men who had come for her. It was said that she could hit a falling raindrop with an arrow sent unerring from her bow—that, with a sword, she had felled five men before finally being chained and dragged to the Lord's fortress. Much of that, the prince mused, was more than likely an exaggeration. But looking at her now, he could imagine her capable of putting up a good fight—of giving all that she had to ensure her own freedom. If the stories were true, he wondered now who had taught her to handle a sword. She was, after all, a half-breed and, as much as the prince detested the prejudice, the breeds were generally neglected and avoided. The prince was most shocked, however, that the rumors of Lord Horton's 'whipping girl' were true. The fact infuriated him to no end. No one should ever have to be punished for the sins of another. He let these thoughts swirl through his head as he circled her, stopping resolutely in front of her before kicking the chains away from her feet.

"And you have not abused your freedom? Have not committed any crimes?" He asked her firmly, his tone taking on the same resolve he used in interrogation. He saw the fire ignite in the little sprite's eyes and he fought back a grin. He was enjoying this entirely way too much.

"I have committed no crimes, sire, except to live. Everyday I wonder if living has, over time, become my crime and thus my punishment." She voiced with self-assurance as the prince moved still closer to her, close enough he noticed the minute tangles in her hair, the rips in the shoulder of her dress that had been raggedly mended, and the way her body trembled only slightly—belying the confidence she was determined to exhibit. The prince glanced around him before suddenly waving his hand in authority.

"Leave us!" He bellowed to the startled jump of both the crowd and the girl in front of him. The crowd murmured in agitation and uncertainty as they began to exit the courtyard, although the prince ignored them as he swayed nearer to the former prisoner.

"Your name, my lady?" He asked her almost in a whisper as she stared at the ground imploringly. He realized then that she was afraid, afraid it seemed of what he would do to her once they were alone, assuming, more than likely, that as a prince, he was above the law. How wrong she was.

"Bella." She murmured finally as the last person inside the bailey exited into the interior of the murky fortress. The prince nodded before taking a few steps back, allowing Bella the space she needed to feel secure. She seemed to note his gesture for she looked up in appreciation.

"And your name, sire?" She asked meekly as the prince stared at her agape. There was no possible way that she was unaware of his name. By the mage, she was! Damn, she had been cruelly sheltered!

His expression seemed to alert her to his shock because she looked away again, as if hurt by the pity she saw burning now in her eyes. She hated pity, fed off of its loathsome nature to make her stronger. She took in a deep, firm breath, her meekness having now fled.

"Whenever you were spoken of in the castle, even by your betrothed, you were always referred to as 'the Beast.'" She explained as he let his brows raise in irritation. His betrothed and his betrothal were both a joke.

"My given name is Connor." He told her lightly before motioning to the ground in front of him, in the formal gesture used to inform a lady that he intended to escort her. She swallowed hard before shaking her head resolutely.

"I'm not allowed in the castle without…" She began as Connor held up his hand to signal her silence. She obeyed reluctantly.

"You are now, Lady Bella. Slavery is a practice that I abhor. I will not permit it here. You should fear nothing." He commanded as she gazed over at him doubtfully. He realized suddenly that she had probably never trusted anyone before. Trust was dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Lady Bella..._**

"Your should fear nothing."

His words rang through my head as I followed him into the darkness, jumping slightly as his hand found my elbow in order to guide me gently through the corridors. He glanced downward at my hesitation.

"You should fear nothing." He repeated firmly as I stared now at the cold stone beneath my dusty toes. I was afraid, not at what would happen with him beside me, but of what would happen once he was gone. The 'Beast'—the nomadic second son of the king of Ridgeland who had left the palace in a rage over his father's policies following the brutal murders of his wife and son, who had fought as a foot soldier and a pirate in order to garner more wealth than the whole mound of gold in his own country's store. He was a rich man—feared, respected, and…well, there was something else about him that troubled me. He seemed almost…oh, I don't know. I should fear nothing, huh?

"Shouldn't I though?" I murmured to myself, realizing that he had heard me when his grip tightened audibly on my elbow. And yet, here was the feared second son of a king returning home, betrothed, and about to enter back into society in order to fight another war. It was all just too daunting.

"For a girl who was so very willing to bite off the head of any man who approached her with the sharpness of her words, you sure have grown quiet. Have you lost your resolve, sprite?" He asked me in a deep tone that rumbled as he spoke. He was a crass man, his language sometimes rough, but I assumed those were due to his pirate years. I _had_ not lost my resolve despite my fear. With or without him, I would rather die than return to the palace as Lord Horton's girl to whip. And so I shook my head, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I did. I would not lie and say I had no fear. I looked up at him.

"I was always taught that without fear, you are careless and therefore weak. I am afraid, sire, but I feed off the fear and allow it to make me stronger." I stated softly, listening with a small hidden smile as he laughed softly, the slight vibration running up the back of my arm as he did. It was a nice sound. And he was a handsome man. Fiercely handsome. That was obvious in the way the maids in the palace stumbled as they passed by him. He didn't seem to notice.

I heard the footsteps then and my skin crawled. I knew the sound of those boots, and I lowered my head slightly without realizing it only to raise it quickly when the prince lifted up my chin almost roughly.

"You will bow to no one but the royal family. That's an order." He commanded as I nodded quickly, staring ahead now as Lord Horton and his daughter materialized out of the darkness into the anteroom we had just entered. The Lord's mouth tightened when he saw me and his daughter gasped at the sight of the prince's hand resting in a gentlemanly fashion upon my elbow. I was, after all, a breed and deserved no respect.

"What's the meaning of this?" Lord Horton asked in a choked tone as the prince merely raised a brow questioningly before leaning casually against the stone wall now behind us, still holding onto my elbow as he did. His casual stance seemed to diminish his size slightly, but he still dwarfed everyone present in the room. I could see Gabriella getting ready to fan herself at the sight of the slight expanse of muscle visible above the slight opening of the prince's shirt. Mercy, the girl was ridiculous. He was, after all, just a man.

"I should ask you the same question, Lord." Connor retorted quietly in the low, dangerous tone I had heard him use on the guards earlier. It had its desired effect as Lord Horton wiped his brow suddenly with the back of his hand before gazing between the prince and I in agitation. The prince was the kind of man who demanded respect just by being present in a room.

"She is a half-breed slave, your highness. Nothing to concern yourself with. We have highly anticipated your visit, your majesty, and look forward to arranging the forthcoming nuptials between my daughter and yourself." Lord Horton mumbled as he bowed quickly, motioning to his awe-struck daughter to do the same. She curtsied instanty, stooping low enough that we were all rewarded with an eye-full of ill-conceived cleavage. Bile rose up in the back of my throat, but the prince grinned as if pretending interest. Or maybe the sight had interested him. How should I know. Pirates were supposed to be lascivious right? Something about long voyages at sea without a female present.

"You know the law, Lord Horton. There is to be no continuous torture of a slave and yet I come here to find that you have been using a mere slip of a girl as a whipping post. We relieved all whipping boys of their duties years ago when one was accidentally killed. I want no excuses, nobleman, only explanations." The prince demanded dangerously as Lord Horton actually cowered. Oh, how I hated the man! But I had never seen him weak before, the fire always burning in his wicked eyes as he held the whip that flogged me regularly. I almost felt the need to look away from his sudden cowardly nature. And as for the prince calling me a mere slip of a girl...! Uggghhhh!

"She's a half-breed, sire. The law does not pertain to the breeds." The man remarked weakly as I shuddered. He was right. They didn't pertain to people like me. The prince's hand tightened again. And then something happened.

The prince shocked the entire room.

"I have decided to cease my engagement to your daughter." The prince stated suddenly in a spitting tone that bespoke of the disgust he felt for the man. I gasped along with Gabriella as the busy nature of the people inside the fortress suddenly stopped. Silence permeated the stone walls as Lord Horton's eyes filled with fire. Gabriella looked over at me accusingly. This couldn't bode well. What was the oaf doing?

"We have an agreement, sire. It is impossible for you to renege on it now." Horton demanded, incensed at the way he was now being treated in front of his own servants. The prince only smiled, his casual stance straightening ever so slightly so that he stood even taller. I saw several men and women gulp, each sex doing so for entirely different reasons. I was just plain vexed at becoming the middle man in this argument...or woman if we are being technical. Two years in slavery and one day, just one day, had suddenly freed me and then catapulted me into a political mess. The prince glanced over at me quietly and I knew by his expression that something big was about to happen. Something that I would not like in the least.

"I never signed a contract, Lord Horton. It was only a verbal agreement between my father and yourself years ago after I fled the kingdom. It has no value now that I am back—none whatsoever." The prince explained suddenly before looking up and gazing at the room quietly.

Shock number two was released onto the masses.

"And it is impossible to hold up now that I am engaged to another." He admitted firmly as everyone in the room gasped collectively. What? Oh, no no no no no no! He wouldn't!

"Betrothed!" The Lord roared all of a sudden, his fist clenching at his side audibly. "To whom?" The man demanded as the prince grinned in feral glory, allowing the silence to create a build up of energy around us before speaking once more.

"Why, to Lady Bella of course." The prince confirmed as my entire body grew numb. What had he just done? I didn't even know the man, and I had specifically told him that I did not want to trade slavery for slavery. Marriage was slavery with a wedding band as a chain to tie a woman to her husband's demands. I would not become another slave! Around me the castle roared with protests and disbelief, but I tuned them out as I stared over at the prince. How could he? By the gads, he was insane! A prince married to a breed? It was not only lunacy, it was murder to suggest such a thing! I couldn't think. I could only stand there rigidly as the fortress seemed to fall apart around us. I was angrier now than I had been before. And this time my captor was bigger, more intimidating, and captivating all at the same time. What was I going to do?


	4. Chapter 4

"You despicable man!" I spat out at Connor about a half an hour later as his men began gathering his things together in order for us to return to the ship he had just left only that morning. He only threw me a hard look before continuing his orders with an efficiency that I admired. Forget that! I refused to admire the man who had just promised to marry me without even talking to me about it first. Connor sighed as he finally allowed himself to register my ire.

"This is not a love match, sprite. I've had that once in my life and I'm not looking for it again. You may even keep your virtue intact if you wish. I have no desire to make you feel uncomfortable. But when I see a political opening, something that can work to my advantage, I tend to utilize it." The prince remarked as he turned back toward his task. I stared at his back both in dismay and in utter disbelief. Did he just call me a political gain? The little…

"I'm a what? Excuse me, _Connor_, but you've lost me. Somewhere between 'this is not a love match' and 'political opening,' I somehow found myself very confused. Imagine that!" I spat out in derision as he stood up quickly before raising a brow up at me in amusement. I'm so very glad he found me such a great piece of entertainment today. As for the use of his name, he had obviously released me to use it by implying we were intimately involved, telling the wonderful Lord Horton and his daughter that he had met me years ago before my imprisonment and that he had been appalled upon discovering I was enslaved here. I could seriously ring his neck right about now!

"You're missing the point here, _Bella_. For someone so adamant about the need to find a way to release the breeds from the prejudice and injustice against their heritage, you have totally overlooked what I have just done back in that palace." The man explained reasonably as a niggling thought began to eat away at the edge of my brain. What had he just done? And then it suddenly made sense. Well, if it didn't…of course, it made perfect sense now. But…well, it wouldn't work. It couldn't work. My telepathic senses opened up as my anger grew and I felt the waves of his own anger as it flowed from him, felt the way he understood what doing what he had done could mean. I froze.

"You want to use me to garner rights for the breeds? A prince marries a breed and suddenly the breeds are acceptable. Am I right? Have you forgotten, sire, that the deeds of the royals are mostly over-looked—that I may be accepted as your bride but that it may not change what happens to the other breeds?" I asked quietly as realization finally did sink in. He glanced over at me then before pointing at the horse that had just been handed to him by one of his servants. I knew he wanted me to mount the animal and so I climbed up on it slowly, watching with wariness as he climbed up behind me before wrapping one arm around my waist while using the other to grasp the reins.

"Fall out!" The prince shouted to his entourage as we all filed toward the shoreline in the distance. I glanced behind myself only once to see the faces of Lord Horton and Lady Gabriella peering from one of the towers with a look of hatred that could turn stone into dust. The prince was not preventing war. If he didn't watch himself, he may be creating one. Connor hadn't answered my question.

"What happens when you bring me home, your highness? What happens when your family finds out you've betrothed yourself to a breed?" I asked him breathlessly as he flipped the reins causing the horse beneath us to gallop. He seemed reluctant to have this argument in front of his men, allowing the horse to move several yards ahead before leaning down slowly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" He asked me in a whisper as I shivered when his breath fanned across the sensitive skin of my earlobe.

"Oh, plenty." I remarked gaily before looking ahead at the ocean, reveling in the sunshine, in the fresh air that had not been allowed to me in years.

"But that's beside the point, sire." I commented lightly as he sighed, letting his movement sink into my back as he shifted slightly.

"We are at war as it is, sprite—at war with a country for the usual reasons, power and land. But what the kings of both Ridgeland, my own father, and the king of Freemont do not realize is that by allowing the prejudice to ensue against the breeds they are cultivating an altogether different war. There will be an uprising eventually." He whispered as I shivered again. This time at the ominous tone he had just set forth for me to envision. He was right. The breeds' numbers were growing. You couldn't keep citizens from Freemont and citizens from Ridgeland from falling in love and mating. It wasn't possible. It seems the more forbidden something is, the more people want to do it. I was one of those mistakes. My father was from Ridgeland, my mother from the country of Freemont. My appearance displayed a perfect mix between the two cultures—my eye shape and color as well as my hair and height leaned toward the darker reds and browns of the people of Freemont. My eyes were green and slightly slanted, my skin an olive hue. But, unlike the people of Freemont, I had blonde streaks in my hair denoting the blonde appearance of those from Ridgeland, my skin was slightly fairer than those of Freemont, and my height teetered at an even medium—well below the taller stature of the Ridgeland folk but also well above that of the Freemont people. There would have been no problem if both kings had not passed a ruling proclaiming that no one from each culture could mate with the other. It had something to do with an old feud. But it had escalated and become hateful when the breeds who _were_ born were not allowed any rights in either country. It was worse for women breeds. Men had dubbed us temptations for our exotic appearance, even being dubbed 'beauties' by one of the politicians. Well, the 'Beauty' had just met the 'Beast' and it seemed he was determined to enslave me in order to break the curse between the two kingdoms. Wonderful. Just wonderful. I truly hoped the Beast had claws because he was going to need them when he introduced me in court. He shook his head suddenly from behind me.

"You have a sharp tongue, sprite." He pointed out as I rolled my eyes at the statement.

"The better to induce anger it seems, _my dear_." I replied sarcastically as he laughed. Good thing this wasn't a love match, if we ever even ended up married. It seems we couldn't quit arguing. I had only known the man a day and I already loathed him. Let the games begin, prince. I was not an easy woman to have around.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so very much to all of those that have reviewed! I greatly appreciate you taking the time to do so and hope that you continue to read and review. You guys are fantastic! Good wishes—licensetowrite.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I genuinely hate to keep my readers waiting for updates so I apologize for the delay in updating. My father had surgery and just got out of the hospital yesterday. I hope to make sure that I update more frequently as of today. Thank you all for reviewing and I hope that you are enjoying where I am going with this. Wonderful wishes and thanks to all!

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We came up on the sea faster than even I suspected, and I watched as the waves beat against the shore, against the wooden planks of the ship that now sat off shore. I was angry at the man behind me, at the man who climbed off of the horse we sat upon before lifting his hand up in a gesture meant to both appease me and help me off the gelding. I refused the hand, shaking my head at him instead before hopping off of the horse quickly and nimbly while pinching my lips together so hard I'm sure that they were white. The prince shook his head at me, and I noticed his expression held a mixture of emotions—a mixture that included mild anger, amusement, and even interest. It was probably an interest that sprouted from the fact that I had refused a prince and not only any prince, but the Beast himself. I hated to disappoint, but I was so not afraid of the man.

"Everyone aboard! We leave within the hour!" The prince commanded as I shivered when his power rubbed slightly along my skin, causing shivers to emanate with strange motions up and down my spine. I knew he was powerful, knew that he had the ability that stemmed from the ancient world of 'magick' before we started taking the 'k' off the end of the word and simplified it. But I had never felt it so strongly in someone before. My telepathic abilities had always allowed me the ability to denote someone's else's strength and his was just…well, amazing. He turned toward me then and his eyes glowed.

"Have I done something more to offend you?" He asked me almost irately as I shook my head slowly, fighting to hide the awe I felt from being exposed by my expression. I didn't want him to know that I 'felt' his magic. I was a survivor and had learned long ago that hiding my abilities ensured my safety. Noting the strain in my eyes, the prince's expression changed from arrogant to concerned. I may be his 'prisoner' per say, but I was also a former slave who had been tortured to an extent that he probably felt the need to feel concerned. He didn't know about my healing abilities either. I kept it that way.

"Should I have our physician look at you?" He asked quietly as I shook my head again slowly. A physician would instantly reveal my secret, for no one in my position could possibly have survived the beatings I had endured without any scars. Let's just say that I didn't have any scars. And, by Gads, I did not want anyone to discover my lack of injuries. Most women would swoon at the idea of having flawless skin for not even a blemish could survive my magic's taint, but I actually desired faults. With faults, I was considered less dangerous and therefore was more acceptable to society.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." I mumbled as I turned away from him to look out at the sea. I could feel him behind me, knew that he hesitated a moment before probably shaking his head and seeing to his men. I felt the breeze whip across my face and I breathed in the scent of salt water on the air. It was delicious and I drank it in, drank in the power that came from being exposed to too much freedom after having been imprisoned for too long. It almost made me heady, even a little drunk from the sensation. Looking at the sandy shore, I couldn't help but move toward it, letting the wind whip at my clothes as I walked until my bare feet was covered by sand. Oh my! What a sensation! The ocean called to me, and I answered it's beckoning demands until the waves were washing over my feet, the salt soothing the sores that should have been there from having no shoes to wear for almost a year now. Instead the sea foam covered flawless feet, and I reveled in its cool touch—reveled in the way that the sea left little bubbles along my toes. The ocean was a beautiful thing. I knew now why some sailors referred to it as their 'mistress.' One couldn't help but see how arousing she could be, how awe-inspiring. And when angry, how obedient and afraid she could make you.

"The sea is a maiden created to tempt and to allure, but she can also be murderous and cold." A voice said softly from behind me, and I turned to see Connor there looking out over at the ocean as well. He gaze moved to meet mine.

"It's time to board." He said simply before turning away and walking toward the ship. I looked out over the ocean once more before turning as well to follow him up to the docks. A new world awaited me—a world that I feared. And I was entering it with a prince. Now that was just simply wrong. I mean, one look at me and you start to wonder if the man didn't belong in a ditch somewhere rambling mad sonnets. What was he thinking? Yes, I was free, but at what cost to myself and even to this man I barely knew? I watched his back as I followed him, still angry at his arrogance and his commanding nature. He even walked like a beast.


	6. Chapter 6

_**The prince…**_

"You seem distracted." A voice pointed out lightly as Connor leaned against the railing of his ship, feeling the slight sway of the vessel as it moved through the water while calming his nerves with its essence. Ahhhh, the sea! Connor turned just enough to catch a glimpse of Haden—a nobleman, fellow soldier, and friend. They had played together since boyhood, in days when fighting with wooden swords had turned eventually into true metal and real wounds. The prince shook his head.

"I'm not distracted." Connor stated simply as he looked out over at the sea again. His friend actually chuckled from beside him. Lying had never been something they did well with each other.

"Is it the girl?" Haden asked as he leaned over the railing next to the prince. Connor sighed. Maybe it was the girl or just the fact that coming home again was something he had never expected to do. His inner 'beast' also craved release. A dolphin jumped out of the water from below and turned a flip before diving back into the waves. The crew almost cheered. Dolphins were considered good luck among seafarers and with a woman on board, something considered a bad omen, the crew reveled in anything that boded well.

"There's something about the girl…she's keeping something from me." Connor answered his friend in a low tone as Haden shrugged. And that was a surprise how? None of them knew her.

"Do you think she's a threat of some kind—that maybe Lord Horton had her imprisoned for a reason?" Haden asked honestly as Connor shook his head. He knew Horton. The man didn't imprison people for good reason. He did it out of lust for fear. It was almost like he enjoyed seeing people in agony.

"No, not a danger. But there is something there…" The prince commented vaguely as he looked behind him just long enough to catch a glimpse of the gel. She was walking awkwardly across the deck, tripping slightly as she picked her way over to the opposite rail in order to peer at the water herself. It took a while for anyone to gain their sea legs, especially if it was their first time at sea, and he was amused by her awkwardness. They could have made the trip over land. There wasn't much distance between Ridgeland and Freemont, but the prince had supplies on the ship that couldn't be left behind. Haden followed his gaze.

"Well, if you ask me, the girl makes me absolutely nervous. Have you noticed that the air even seems more tense with her on board?" Haden asked as they both looked down when Bella looked up suddenly. Connor raised a brow in agreement. The air did seem different, but it seemed due more to his own powers than to her presence. Maybe his tension was rubbing off on everyone else. It had nothing to do with the girl even if her power was rather strong. She seemed to think he didn't feel 'her' power, but too much of his essence was made up of 'magic' for him not to feel hers. He just wondered how long she could keep lying to him about it. He also wondered if she knew how powerful she was or if she was just unaware of it. It was the reason he was restless. He felt downright caged. Haden looked over at him.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so…so claustrophobic. It's almost like your uncomfortable in your own skin. Do you think that you will be able to make it to shore?" Haden asked curiously as Connor peered over at him cautiously, his eyes glowing green slightly before he shut them to hide the change. Connor sighed. Only Haden and Connor's parents knew that there was more than one reason that Connor was referred to as the "Beast." And Bella was calling to his beast without her even being aware that her magic had that ability. It was disconcerting. She was young and naïve, appearing as if she had barely seen 19 or 20 turns in her lifetime. Connor, however, was almost past twenty-six and had learned to control himself better than that. He peered at Haden again once he was sure his eyes had faded back to normal.

"I have more control than that, Haden." Connor replied evenly as the other man shrugged. Control or not, the girl was getting under his skin and his friend knew it.

"She's certainly nothing liking Annabelle." Haden murmured, referring to Connor's former wife. Connor narrowed his eyes. It had been too long since her death for him to be effected by that statement, but he still cringed when he thought about her. Haden was right, other than the similarity in name, Bella seemed nothing like his late wife. The little sprite had too much temper and no feminine wiles whatsoever. It was as if she fought to be as loathsome to others as possible, as if afraid that her exotic appearance would be nothing more than a trial for her. And, despite the fact that Connor had loved Annabelle with all of his being, she had never seemed able to accept his beast. It disgusted her. Which is why Connor had learned to fight its control. He hadn't 'turned' in years. And yet now he felt it under his skin like he had the first time he realized it lurked there. It disconcerted him. Haden chuckled.

"You can deny it if you want, but if you start to howl, don't expect me to throw you a bone." His friend joked as Connor rolled his eyes. He didn't howl. Did he? Connor looked up at Bella again. Did he? She looked up then too and their gazes met. Her eyes held anger ad fury and he let his expression mirror hers. It was easier to let her anger at him infuse him with the same anger than to admit that he was disturbed by her nonchalant behavior. Besides, anger would help her keep her distance and he needed that distance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Apologies on the long time in updating. When I first published this story, I had a family member (my father)go into the hospital and etc. He's fine but is disabled and has to have surgery every so often. It has been hectic to say the least, but I fully intend to begin updating once a day if possible as I am really getting into this story. Anywho, I hope that everyone is still reading. I am going to try and update a few more times tonight as well. Thank you all who have been reading. I truly truly appreciate it. Lots of wonderful wishes to you all! Love!--Licensetowrite**

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**_Bella..._**

**_Hours Later..._**

Land. I saw it before I even heard the sea gulls that circled now over my head. They were everywhere and they seemed especially attracted to me, despite my attempt to persuade them to go away. Only about an hour or so left and we would dock. I could handle that.

"Have you always had such animal magnetism?" A voice asked in amusement from behind me and I scowled. The prince seemed to enjoy goading my temper. I didn't even turn around.

"Must be, sire. It seems I have a knack for attracting beasts." I murmured as he chuckled lightly, seemingly unfazed by my obvious, scathing remark. It wasn't that I was intentionally being rude. Okay, I was. It's just that I was scared, that the idea of landing in an unknown principality, so close to the one I had been imprisoned in, full of prejudice against my kind terrified me, and I chose to be angry rather than afraid. The prince didn't say anything more, just moved away. He was silent so long that my curiosity got the better of me, and I turned around only to regret the movement when I discovered the very man I was pretending not to notice was standing on deck naked from the waist up.

By Gads!

He was built as if sculpted from an artist's hand and his hairless torso and upper arms glistened slightly with sweat as he yielded a sword and stood defensively across from one of his comrades. He was very precise with the metal and as he turned I caught a glimpse of the large tattoo that covered his back and I almost gasped. I had heard that men who lived on the sea tended to mark their bodies as well as pierce their ears but never had I actually seen it. The man was infinitely intimidating, and I tried to cover my surprise as I stared now at the wolf etched on his skin, sitting confidently on top of a boulder howling at the moon. It seemed symbolic somehow, although that seemed a ridiculous way to symbolize a meaning. Not to mention, who would put themselves through the obvious torture you most certainly had to endure in order to get the etching there in the first place. Idiots are what they were. The prince glanced up then and caught me staring. As it was, it was scandalous for me to be here staring as I was. Propriety didn't allow for a female to stand anywhere near the vicinity of a scantily clad male, but rules obviously didn't apply for me. Maybe because I was a slave, the men assumed I was not a virgin. Most slaves weren't.

"The wolf is strong, a force of wit and strength—Strength from brutal force as well as in multiple numbers for wolves move in packs and mate for life." The prince said suddenly, feeling the need to explain the marking as my eyes finally made their way back up to his face. I would not allow myself to feel embarrassed.

"And so you felt the need to immortalize the creature? Seems somewhat obsessive, don't you think?" I asked shortly as the prince parried a move made by his partner before continuing to speak. Once again he seemed amused by my point of view.

"Sometimes we immortalize what we fear, Sprite." He replied vaguely as I creased my brow in confusion. He was afraid of the wolf? I never got the chance to ask because he managed to relieve his partner of his sword before turning the metal over and holding it out to me hilt first.

"I hear you know your way around this weapon." The prince stated as I shrugged. The tales about me were exaggerated, but I did know how to handle a sword. Anyone who has had to survive in this brutal society could. But I shook my head.

"I have no desire to work out with you." I grumbled as he shrugged before turning the sword in his hand.

"Are you telling me that you're _not_ proficient in the sword?" He asked me lightly as I growled before jerking the weapon out of his hand. He assumed position with a raised brow.

"A little feisty aren't we, sprite?" He asked quietly as I narrowed my eyes.

"Indignant maybe, sire. Some may view that as feistiness. As for my name, it isn't sprite." I retorted as he nodded before jabbing his weapon in my direction. It was a practiced move meant to goad the partner into combat. I parried and settled into the rhythm of the movements. I wasn't a strong woman, never had been. My body was lithe and slender, my muscles there but not prominent. I _did _look more like a wood sprite or a dancer than a warrior so I am sure I made a funny sight challenging the large prince. But there is also an advantage to being short and small. It made you faster. And I had learned years ago that sword fighting was more about speed and wit than it was about brawn. The prince was definitely more adept at the sword than I, even with the width and breadth of his physique. It was almost as if the metal was a part of his skin, as if it were an extra appendage. While I was better than most men, I had come to acknowledge the fact that the prince was _not_ a normal man. But I was still willing to, at least, hold my own enough to garner a little respect. We moved around each other, parrying until I was exhausted as I felt him get the upper hand. He raised a brow.

"Where did you learn to use a weapon?" He asked me quietly as I stared over into his blue-green eyes. I didn't answer. He had no right to know. He lifted up his sword and came down hard enough I lost my grip on my own weapon and it slid across the deck. He bowed.

"We all have secrets, sprite." He commented as he came close enough I could feel the heat emanating off of his skin.

"But sometimes, sprite, it's okay to talk about some of them." He admonished as he brushed past me. It was then that I noticed the wolf on his back had green eyes. It was eerie.

"Prepare to dock!" the prince yelled as his men scurried to do as he commanded. I took a cloak he offered me and wrapped the green material around my shoulders. It bore the crest of the royal family but what choice did I have.

"Prepare to face your previous owner." The prince whispered as he pulled a shirt on over his chest and placed a hand against my shoulder. I looked up at him.

"What do you mean? Lord Horton will challenge your claim for me?" I asked him quietly as he looked down into my face.

"I was promised to his daughter, sprite. That country will not take me choosing a half-breed slave over a noble woman lightly no matter how crude that sounds. I can guarantee that Lord Horton left immediately for Ridgeland as soon as we departed and because he traveled over land, his entourage will have already arrived at the palace." The prince explained as I tried to keep from shivering. I hid the reaction by pulling the cloak tighter around me. The prince's earring glistened in the sun, and I reached up to remove the prince's hand off my shoulder. He jumped at the contact, and I noticed him crease his brows together in pain. His eyes closed, and I let go of him completely. What was that about? The prince re-opened his eyes.

"Remember something, sprite. I'm a cursed man. Be very careful around me." He whispered once more before leading the way toward the gangplank that was set up to allow us a speedy exit. I was confused, but I shrugged off the eerie sensation. Instead I glanced at the town ahead, watching with wide eyes as the people along the port city's shore stopped to stare. I knew why. I was used to being stared at. And while it had begun to become something that didn't bother me, the prince didn't seem to hold the same sentiment because he pulled me ahead of him before placing the head covering attached to the cloak over my head, shielding me from prying eyes. I wanted to hit him, to yell that I didn't hide myself from the world, but he gripped my arm tightly enough to let me know he wanted silence. I complied.

The trip to the palace was long and winding, and I stared out from underneath the robe at the villagers, at the small children that tramped across my path, at the sound of the baker yelling at a vagrant for stealing bread, at the sound of the Black Smith's anvil as he worked on his metallurgy, and at the sound of the shopkeepers as they yelled out their wares. It was almost overwhelming. I had not been allowed out of Lord Horton's castle much and a good deal of my youth before my captivity had been spent in forests because forests were safe. Haden, Prince Connor's friend, snuck up beside me.

"Look up." He whispered as I gazed up at the sky only to gasp. There it was. The palace was just that…a palace. It was amazing. The stones were blocks of marbleized rock that glistened in the sun and reached up so high that many of the torrents seemed to touch the sky. I couldn't keep myself from gasping. Haden chuckled.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Haden asked as I nodded absently.

"Yes, m'Lord." I murmured as I ducked deeper into the robe. The prince may be intimidating but by the looks of the palace, I was in for many more surprising events. How had this happened to me? Why was the prince really interested in using me as a pawn in whatever game he was playing? And which pawn was I? The prince stopped at the gates and pulled his own hood off of his sandy hair so that the guards could see his features. They immediately came to attention.

"Your highness!" They exclaimed as they rushed to get the palace gates open. I listened to the iron creak and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of prison I was entering now.


	8. Chapter 8

**_The Prince..._**

He could smell her fear, could see the unease that settled over her face as they entered the palace gates and he had to breathe deeper and with even, steady breaths as he felt her essence wash over him. _She_ was what he had been looking for. _She_ was the one woman who could destroy his curse. She didn't know that—his friend didn't know that. But _he_ did. He had grown up with the prophecy, with the scribbled scroll that his wizard teacher had always made sure he memorized. It rang through his head now.

"_**And the curse shall be broken by a woman of magic, by a woman whose spirit calls to the beast. She will come forth out of darkness, out of the land of your enemy."**_

Glancing behind him, he watched her now—a brave little sprite who was determined to channel her fear into courage. She amazed him with her spirit and yet he was simply using her. He had spent years looking for the woman that fit the prophecy, years scouring the lands where he fought, the seas where he watched men die just looking for a woman who called to his beast and now he had found her. And yet now, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. First off, he had grown used to the beast—the wolf that transformed him from a man into a beast whenever his temper flared past control or during certain full moons. It had first transpired when he reached puberty, just as it had been predicted by the witch who had cursed him. And while he had been startled by the change, he hadn't been disgusted by it. That surprised him too. Especially since his family and teacher had been warning him of the upcoming change since his birth. They had never hidden the facts of his curse, never hidden the fact that the woman who had given it to him was his own grandmother.

"Are you regretting your decision to bring the gel?" Haden asked suddenly with a surly tone as Connor shook his head to clear it of his thoughts. He knew his friend believed that he had brought the girl because he was attracted to her, because he intended to force her hand or turn her into a mistress of some sort. And while that thought was disgusting and yet tempting—although furthest from his mind at the moment— it was probably best for Haden to think Connor had taken her just for those reasons. It kept him from discovering the truth. Because the truth was even more dangerous. Connor looked back at Haden.

"The only thing I'm regretting is returning home, returning to the inner reaches of the lion's den." Connor stated quietly as Haden turned once again to look at the girl. An unexpected burst of jealousy ran rampant through Connor's veins but he squelched it. Haden sighed.

"And you intend to take her into the lion's den with you? Is that it? The sad thing is, Connor, that you could actually start a war by bringing that girl here—by shunning the daughter of a Freemont nobleman." Haden remarked with a shrug as Connor clenched his jaw just enough that the muscles in it became distinct.

"I'm well aware of the fact, Haden. But I needed the girl." Connor replied in a low tone to disguise the way his voice changed suddenly. He needed to get a grip on the beast. Haden's head shot up almost angrily. He had always been the one person that had never been afraid to argue with Connor. It's what made them such good friends.

"But you don't even know her!" Haden retorted in an exasperated tone as Connor shook his head slowly. The palace doors loomed before them now and Connor sighed as he pushed through them.

"No, but my beast does." He whispered under his breath as he continued forward, moving away from his friend so that he was standing now beside his 'new' betrothed. He could see the way her breath hitched as she smoothed down her old skirt and he realized she was nervous. He leaned down carefully.

"Are you ready?" He asked her softly as she immediately shook her head. It made him chuckle.

"Deep breaths, Bella." He murmured as her eyes met his suddenly in surprise. It was then that he realized he had used her name instead of calling her 'sprite.' And just by the expression that came into her eyes, it was then that he also realized she could care less if he was a prince, could care less that she was trapped in a betrothal that could elevate her position, could garner prestige. No, she craved freedom.

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**Author's Footnote: Hey guys! Just when I assume I can update more often, I had to go out of town. Sigh. Teaches me to make assumptions. But I have lots in store for you guys and for our odd couple and I plan to type it up when I return home from work this afternoon if possible. But I wanted to go ahead and give you guys a taste. So, let me know if you're still out there. Lots of hugs to you all. Please R&R. licensetowrite.**


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